Espérance
by whatifellinlovewith
Summary: "Her eyes burn, tears blurring her vision as she drops the planner onto the couch next to her. She leans forward, pressing her eyes against her knees. Her hands curl around her shins, nails digging into her skin through the fabric of her pants. She can't be…pregnant." Probable Cause AU written for CastleFanficMonday.


**Espérance**

* * *

He couldn't have done it.

She drops into her chair with a sigh, her elbows landing on the surface of her desk, forehead falling into the cradle of her hands. The heels of her palms press against her eyes, her nails digging into her hairline

The evidence might point to him, but Castle couldn't have done it.

She knows him too well, knows the guilt he holds over letting Tyson go free, the reverence he has for life. He's gentle and sweet, the man who trails his fingertips up her spine when she wakes in the morning, who presses a gentle kiss to her temple before she falls asleep at night.

He's the man she loves, a man incapable of such a heinous crime, such a gruesome murder.

She tugs her lower lip between her teeth as she drags her fingers through her hair. Her back hits the chair again, her head falling back slightly so her gaze can lock on the ceiling.

He's their best suspect, their only suspect. The evidence points only to him.

It's too clean. It's been planted.

Which she already knows, of course.

She also knows that when planted evidence is the only evidence, it's what the N.Y.P.D. goes with, and a jury will accept it as true. That's how it works. That's why people plant evidence in the first place.

It's up to her, she realizes, her stomach sinking. She has to prove his innocence, and she's not sure she can.

Still biting at her lip, she pulls open her top desk drawer and reaches inside to grab her personal planner. And then she pushes herself up from her desk, walks over to the break room.

Her eyes dart around the room, lingering on the coffee machine, such a firm reminder of him and the man he is.

She drops onto the couch, drawing her legs up in front of her. Her chin lands in the valley between her knees, arms wrapping around her legs.

She just has to prove him innocent. She just has to—

Her eyes lock on the one thing she didn't expect to catch her off guard, the one thing in this little calendar she didn't expect to make her panic.

The book is open to August, the random page her nails slipped beneath, and on the thirty-first is written, in tiny lines of red pen, _PS._ Which isn't odd, isn't remotely out of the ordinary. It's her code for the beginning of her period, something she scribbles down on a monthly basis.

What _is_ out of the ordinary is that, when she slips her finger under the page and opens the calendar to September, the same letters aren't there.

There's the _PE_ , marking the end of her period, written on the fifth, and then…nothing.

Her heart is thundering against her ribs suddenly, teeth digging into her lip _hard._ Her hands are shaking as she sucks in a breath, tries to force herself to calm down.

She can't be…

They've only…

They've always…

She flips the page to October, and sure enough, there's nothing on that page, either.

Her eyes burn, tears blurring her vision as she drops the planner onto the couch next to her. She leans forward, pressing her eyes against her knees. Her hands curl around her shins, nails digging into her skin through the fabric of her pants.

She can't be…pregnant.

But the only times she's ever been late were right after her mother died, and when she was shot. And now…

She's never missed two months in a row.

She's also never been pregnant.

Her heart still pounding, her chest aching with every breath, she forces herself out of the ball she curled herself into. Her foot presses against the ground, and she stands on shaky legs, unbalanced on the thin points of her heels.

The damn calendar has nothing to prove his innocence, just everything that can turn her already messy life _completely_ upside down.

She walks back into the bullpen, straight to her desk. Reaching down, past her chair, she grabs her purse, throws it over her shoulder.

She fights the quivering, the weakness, the panic that threatens to overwhelm her.

She needs to…prove herself wrong. Or right. Probably right.

Swallowing back a sigh, she turns towards Ryan and forces a smile.

"Can you cover for me with Gates?" she asks, fighting back a wince at the shakiness of her voice.

His brows furrow, but he nods his head. "Yeah, sure. Everything okay?"

Of course not. Her boyfriend is a murder suspect, she's starting to think a serial killer with a personal vendetta might be behind it and she's quite possibly pregnant.

Things are definitely _not_ okay.

But she finds herself nodding, forcing her smile to widen. "Yeah. I just have something I need to do."

He offers her a sympathetic smile before turning away, promising to cover for her if Gates notices she's gone.

He probably thinks the something she needs to do is about the case. It isn't.

* * *

She's practically gasping for breath when she pushes the door to the morgue open.

Her hand is pressed against her chest, and the tears she fought the whole drive are blurring her vision. Her knees feel like they're about to give out.

She's barely aware of Lanie grabbing her shoulder until she's being pushed into a chair.

"Whoa, Kate, what's wrong?"

She shakes her head, wiping the tears from her eyes, smearing them across her cheeks. Her teeth find her lower lip again, and she swallows back the lump in her throat along with whatever words were lodged behind it.

"Did something happen with Castle? Did they find more evidence?"

Once again, she finds herself shaking her head. Her eyes burn, forcing her to blink back the tears that threaten to return. She curls her nails around the neckline of her shirt, tugging it down as much as the fabric will allow.

"Okay, then," says Lanie. "Then what has you so upset?"

She sucks in a breath as she runs her fingers through her hair, combing it away from her face. A few strands stick to her cheeks, and her nose is running.

She's always cherished the time she's had alone, time for her to think, but now…

She _can't_ be pregnant. Well, she _can,_ from a scientific standpoint, but still. They've only been together for a few months. Bracken is still out there, with only her bluff keeping her safe. Tyson is still out there, as dangerous as ever. And she and Castle…

She hasn't even told him she loves him yet.

And now he might be arrested for a murder she knows he didn't commit.

This is _bad._

Lanie squeezes her shoulder gently in support. "Come on, Kate, you can tell me anything," she says. "Do you…do you think Castle might have actually done it?"

"No!" It's practically a scream, too loud and too fast and it sounds too defensive even though it's the truth. Her eyes fall closed. "No, Lanie. I know he didn't do it. This is _Castle_ we're talking about. He couldn't have."

There's a screeching sound, and she opens her eyes to see Lanie pulling up a metal stool and dropping to sit in front of her. She's smiling, that same sympathetic smile that Ryan had earlier.

"I don't think he did it, Lanie," she repeats. "I can't. I mean, I _love_ him. I could never think he did something so horrible. And I know him. You do, too. Do you really think he could have done this?"

Lanie shakes her head. "Nope. I think he's being set up," she says. "But that's not why you're here."

She bites her lip again, shaking her head ever so slightly. "No, it's not," she whispers.

"Then what does have you almost hyperventilating in my morgue?"

She swallows. Her hands settle on her thighs, her nails curling against the fabric of her pants.

She should just go, take the test on her own or wait for this mess to blow over and take it with him. She should—

"I might be pregnant," she blurts.

Her eyes widening, Lanie's jaw drops. "Pregnant?" she whispers.

She nods, tears welling in the corners of her eyes again. She doesn't bother wiping them away this time. "Yeah," she mumbles. "I might be…pregnant."

"With Castle's baby?" asks Lanie.

That has her rolling her eyes, the corners of her mouth curling into the slightest of smiles. "Of course, with Castle's baby," she says.

Lanie nods slowly, as though she's taking in the information. Her brows furrow, eyes narrowing in curiosity.

"You said might," she says. "You haven't taken the test yet?"

"I just realized I'm late. Well, I missed last month and now…I'm late for this month to," she answers. "And then I rushed over here, because I don't want to— He's going through a lot right now, I don't want to add my panic to it."

Lanie stands abruptly, kicking the stool back with one foot. "Okay then, come on."

She feels her brows furrow, lips falling into a frown. "What?"

"We're going to the drugstore," she answers, "to get you a pregnancy test."

"What? But, Lanie…"

"No buts. Come on, don't you want to know for sure?"

She's really not sure she does.

"What about work?" she asks.

Lanie motions to their murder victim, lying on the autopsy table, mostly covered by a sheet. "She's not going anywhere," she says. "So, come on, I'll take an early lunch. It's fine."

Her heart sinks, her chest aching with it, with the anxiety that wells and presses against her ribcage. But she stands and follows Lanie out the door.

* * *

She stares at the shelves of pregnancy tests for a long time, her heart pounding, her vision blurring every time she tries to wipe the tears from her eyes.

There's so many, each a different brand, a different kind and she just _can't._

She really doesn't want to know, because her gut is telling her it's going to be positive and her head is telling her it might be negative and her boyfriend is a murder suspect and this is a _mess._

Taking the test can wait, right? Until Castle's name is cleared. Until she can breathe again.

Lanie's hand settles on her shoulder. "Just pick one, Kate. They're all pretty much the same," she says.

She bites at the inside of her lip until the flavor of blood lands on her tongue, shaking her head. Turning around, she pushes Lanie's hand off her shoulder, her eyes locked on the ground.

"I shouldn't. I should…I should wait until he's okay, until he can do this with me," she mumbles, the words too fast and bleeding together. "He would want to do this with me."

It's true. She can all but picture Castle bouncing with excitement outside the bathroom door, rambling about baby names and all the things they'll need before the test is even taken.

He would want that. She should…

"Castle would also want to know that you and his baby are safe," says Lanie. "This case could be dangerous, Kate. You need to know, so you can protect the baby you may or may not be having."

She's crying again, a tear falling to land on her shoe.

Quickly, without even looking, she turns around and yanks a random box off the rack, checking only to make sure it is, in fact, a pregnancy test. And then Lanie's dragging her to the checkout counter before she can argue.

She expects them to leave afterwards, go back to the morgue or even to her apartment, somewhere where she's comfortable, familiar, where she can picture herself taking the test. But they don't.

Lanie catches her arm and starts dragging her towards the door to the women's bathroom.

"We're taking it…?"

"Here," says Lanie. "Right now."

She wants to argue, even tries to tug her arm from Lanie's grip, but she knows it won't work. She knows her friend, and knows she's right.

Lanie tugs the bathroom door closed behind them, and she swallows back a sigh of relief when she realizes the room is otherwise empty.

She can do this. She has to.

"Go pee on the stick, Kate. I'll be waiting."

She winces, but she listens.

When she comes back out, her hand is shaking, the test pinched between her thumb and forefinger, wrapped in a wad of toilet paper. Lanie takes it from her and sets it down on the counter.

"So, what do you want it to be?" she asks.

"Huh?"

Lanie turns back to her, eyes wide and curious and still shining with sympathy. "The test, do you want it to be positive or negative?"

"Oh," she breathes. "I…don't know."

"Well, would it be bad if it was positive?" she asks.

She shrugs, her jaw clenching tightly, making her force her mouth open. "We've only been together for five months, Lanie. It's too soon," she answers.

"And?"

"And there's Bracken who still wants me dead," she continues. "Tyson is still out there. He might even be behind everything that's going on now."

Lanie nods. "So you want it to be negative?"

She swallows, her teeth finding her lip once again. It burns now, the drag of her teeth over damaged skin. Her hands curl into fists at her sides, pressing hard against her thighs.

"I don't know," she mumbles.

Lanie nods again, falling silent. She pulls her phone from the pocket of her scrubs, glances at the time.

She watches Lanie's face, stares at the black backing of the phone for a long time before letting her gaze fall, eyes tracing the patterns of the tiled floor. Her heart is still pounding.

Finally, Lanie looks back up at her. "Three minutes are up," she says. "You wanna look at it?"

She steps forward, and then back again, shaking her head. "No. I can't," she whispers. "You do it."

"Okay," says Lanie. She reaches back, taking the pregnancy test in her hand. "Well, it's negative."

She inhales on a gasp, her eyes falling closed and for a split second, she thinks what she's feeling is relief.

That is, until she realizes that she's crying again, and notices the tugging in her chest that feels more like disappointment. Like pain and desire, and longing. She wipes at her cheeks, forcing her eyes open again.

"I don't…even know why I'm crying," she mumbles, laughter breaking through her words. "I mean, it's negative?"

Lanie nods.

Her heart sinks. She recognizes this feeling. She _knows_ this feeling, remembers it from all the times she watched Castle walk away, from all the times she came up on a dead end in her mother's case, from everything.

It's disappointment. Pure, complete, and utter disappointment that has her wanting to curl up in a ball and cry and pretend she's not longing for something she can't have, something she never did.

"I can't believe it," she whispers. "I really thought…" She sucks in a breath, forcing her gaze to meet Lanie's. "I don't know. I thought it was going to be positive," she manages, the words shaky. "How can I be crying over something I never had?"

Lanie sighs, stepping forward to rest one hand on her shoulder. "Well, you're gonna have it."

"Yeah, I know. One day…"

"No, Kate. Soon. Very soon," interrupts Lanie. "The test is positive."

She gapes, reaching forward to pluck the white stick from between Lanie's fingers. Sure enough, two pink lines stare up at her.

"What? Did the second one just appear, because it could be a false positive," she says, looking back up at Lanie. "Should I take the other one?"

"No," she answers. "It's been there the whole time, Kate."

"But you said…"

Lanie shrugs. "I lied," she says.

She looks back down at the pregnancy test in her hand, at the two lines that so clearly tell her _yes,_ she is pregnant. She was right. And her fluttering heart, the butterflies in her stomach, the racing of her mind with images of her and Castle and a baby are all telling her this isn't a bad thing.

It's good. It's very good.

"Why did you…?"

Lanie squeezes her shoulder. "Now you know how you feel about it, right?" she asks.

She nods, eyes still locked on the test in her hands.

"See? You're happy, Kate," she says. "Now all you have to do is prove Writer Boy innocent and you guys can go off and be a happy family."

She shakes her head. "It's not that simple," she mutters.

"I know," says Lanie. "But right now, it feels like it is, doesn't it?"

She smiles, tears flooding her eyes again. This time, they're tears of joy.

Because right now, in this moment, it does feel like it could be that simple. It feels _really_ good. It feels right.

* * *

That feeling doesn't last. Gates gets a search warrant for Castle's loft and next thing she knows, she's clicking handcuffs around his wrists, promising him she'll get him out.

But his eyes are dark and her heart is heavy.

She's pregnant and he doesn't know. He's going to jail, where Tyson will probably have him killed before he can ever find out.

She wants to say something, almost blurts it out, but then he's talking and so is she, and part of her wonders if it would only make things worse for him if she were to tell him now.

So she lets him go, handing him over to the guards here to pick him up with nothing but a hand that lingers on his elbow for a moment too long.

And then the actual guards are showing up and something inside her snaps.

She needs to find him, so while the boys are stuck under Gates' orders to find Castle, she's tugging her jacket from the back of her chair and escaping down the stairwell.

She has to find him, so they can be a family.

And she does, stepping down the stairs at the New York Public Library to see him sitting at one of the tables wearing a blue baseball cap.

He looks up at her, their eyes meeting. The corners of her lips curl upwards into a smile.

She forces herself to keep her steps slow, not too desperate so they don't draw attention, but soon enough his arms are around her, her face pressed against his shoulder.

She wants to tell him. She should tell him.

He's smiling down at her and her fingertips are trailing across his cheeks, feeling the stubble that's growing on his jaw. For a moment, she almost forgets the mess they're in, almost blurts it out.

She wants to see him smile. She wants to see him celebrate, be as happy about this as she is.

But, in order for that to happen, this needs to be fixed. He needs to not be a fugitive and there needs to not be a serial killer after them and he's pulling her towards the table, telling her what he found.

They have a lead. Just a tiny one, but a lead all the same.

It can wait. She doesn't need to tell him now. She shouldn't tell him now.

Even though her heart is stuck between sinking because of his situation and bursting because she's _pregnant,_ the happiness that comes with the thought continuing to overwhelm her.

She might want it to overwhelm him, too, but she also wants him free to be happy when she tells him.

So she follows the lead without saying a word.

It can wait.

* * *

The gun is jabbed against her side, pressing hard under her ribcage, Tyson's hand holding her back, forcing her to follow him every time he takes a step.

But all she can feel is the gun, pressed _right there,_ right where the baby is.

She should have said something, should have told Castle and the boys and Gates and not let herself walk into this trap. Not let herself end up being held at gunpoint by a serial killer she knows won't think twice about killing her, about letting her and their baby die.

And then Castle's voice is behind her, calling to Tyson and the gunshot goes off but there's no pain, no burn, no wound.

It's not Tyson that's shooting. It's Castle.

She falls to her knees as the gunshots ring through the air, loud and dangerous and she can hear Tyson gasping, can see him struggle for balance as he stumbles backwards.

She hears the splash and doesn't need to look over the edge to see who it is, to make sure he's gone.

Tyson's gone. And she…

She's still on her hands and knees, the pavement digging into her palms as she gasps for breath. She sinks back, settling her weight on her shins as her hand comes up and skims across her side where she's sure there'll be a bruise.

She could be bleeding to death right now. Her baby could be...gone.

She's crying, the tears streaming down her face and she can't wipe them away, can't tear her hands away from her side, away from her stomach, away from her baby. The side of her face stings, burns. Her knees ache. Neither one of them have looked over the edge where Tyson fell but she can't move.

Her stomach lurches, sending her falling forward, her palms hitting the pavement. She throws up, choking on nothing and everything and crying at the same time.

"Kate!"

It's him, his voice loud and she can hear his footsteps as he comes running towards her. She feels his hand on her back, rubbing circles against the base of her spine as the other comes up to sweep the hair away from her neck.

"Kate," he breathes. "Are you okay? I didn't hit you, did I?"

She shakes her head, sinking back onto her legs. "No, Castle," she whispers. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Castle. So sorry."

His fingers drift across her nape, curl around her shoulder and he squeezes gently, still rubbing circles against her lower back. "Hey," he says, shushing her softly, "you have nothing to be sorry for. You didn't do anything wrong."

"No, Castle, I did," she mumbles. "And I'm so sorry. So, so sorry, Castle."

He shushes her again, reaching forward this time to frame her chin with his fingers. He gently tilts her head upwards so her gaze meets his. "Okay. It's okay, Kate. What are you sorry for?"

She reaches up, covers her hand with is as his thumb swipes at the tears on her cheeks. "I'm sorry. Tyson…he could have killed you and you wouldn't have known. Or me. He could have killed me, Castle. Oh, God, I'm _so_ sorry."

He draws her forward, his arms wrapping around her. She presses her cheek against his shoulder, her forehead against his neck. His fingers skim down her spine, just hard enough for her to feel it through the thick leather of her coat.

"You're okay, Kate. We're okay and Tyson…he's gone," he promises. "Whatever it is you're sorry for, I'm sure it's okay. We're okay."

She pulls away, just enough to reach up and frame his face with her hands, to let her eyes meet his.

He's staring back at her, confused and expectant, lips twisted into a frown. She's still crying, her vision still blurry, but she forces her lips into the slightest of smiles, letting her thumbs drift across the high of his cheekbones.

"I'm pregnant."

His eyes go wide, his jaw dropping. His hands squeeze her waist tightly, pulling her closer. And then his lips quirk upwards, eyes shimmering with delight.

"You're…pregnant?" he breathes.

She nods, letting out a watery laugh. "Yeah," she says. "And I'm sorry, Castle. I shouldn't have stayed on the case. I put our baby in danger and it was stupid and I should have told you sooner but…"

He crushes her against him, his arms tight around her middle. His nose nuzzles against his cheek, and she feels the warmth of his tears smear across her temple.

"Don't apologize," he says. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"But Castle, I could have…our baby could have _died_ because of me."

He reaches up, brushes his thumb against the corner of her eye. "But we're all okay, right? You saved me from Tyson, and you and the baby are both fine, Kate. Everything's fine. Better than fine. Everything is great."

She smiles, her cheek settling against the warmth of his palm. "Yeah?" she breathes.

He nods, smiling widely now. "Yeah," he says. "We're having a baby."

"And you don't think it's too soon?" she asks, her teeth just barely catching her bottom lip.

"It's soon," he says. "But we can do it. Partners, right? It's been over four years now, Kate. I think we can handle a baby."

Her heart flutters, skipping a beat. "You do?"

"Of course I do." He leans forward, dusts a kiss to her forehead. "We're going to be a family, Kate. An adorable, happy family."

She chuckles, leaning forward to rest her head on his shoulder again. The fatigue is just starting to get to her, the adrenaline wearing off.

He wraps his arms around her, a hand smoothing down her back.

"Castle?" she whispers, the words muffled against his neck.

"Yeah, Kate?"

She pulls away from him, eyes locking on his again. He's still smiling, bright and happy. She can feel her own smile tugging at her cheeks and the corners of her eyes.

"I love you," she whispers.

His answer is the kiss he presses to her lips.

* * *

 **In case you were wondering, espérance is French for hope.**

 **Also, a huge thank you goes to Lindsey for dealing with all my insecurities (about this story and otherwise), betaing this and helping come up with the title.**

 **Happy Castle Fanfic Monday!**


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